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the jousting continue without any real anxiety. Even when Ian changed his horse, although she knew he was being punished as severely as his mount, she could see no change in his graceful seat and outwardly easy handling of his lance. Worry began to prick her at the second change of mount. It was not only that she began to realize how bruised and achingly tired Ian must be. In addition, she recognized the horse. The gray stallions might all look the same to others, but Alinor had known each of them since the day it was foaled. Small differences in color, in characteristic behavior, identified them to Alinor. Ian had not changed to the third fresh destrier; he had remounted the first animal. That could only mean that he was saving the third stallion for some severe trial he knew to be coming. |
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A young knight screamed, blood showing as he went down under Ian's lance. Alinor shuddered and drew her furred cloak closer around her. It was horribly clear to her that Ian was too tired to manage his lance properly now. He would never deliberately harm a virtually unknown youngster. She saw him throw down the weapon and call something to the attendents, ride over, curbing his horse to speak to the fallen man. |
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"I am so cold," she whispered. |
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Immediately there was a furor of activity. A brazier was moved closer; new hot stones were fetched to warm Alinor's feet. A spate of words poured from Lady Ela's lips, mingling "I told you so's" with personal complaint. Alinor's hands were seized by a maid and rubbed briskly. Before quiet was restored, Alinor had her terror under control. If her smiles of thanks to those who attended her were stiff, they were still smiles, while the brisk patting applied to warm, her cheeks had also brought color back into them. Moreover, often repeated in the spate of words was the pointed remark that the sun was well down in the western sky, it was overtime for dinner, and Lady Ela was hungry. |
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She said it so often, and her high whine was so car- |
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